


BLACK

by aprilibra



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Arrogance, Chance Meetings, Clubbing, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Human/Vampire Relationship, Loss of Parent(s), Love, Love/Hate, Money, Original Character(s), Personal Growth, Romance, Sex, Soap Opera, Some Humor, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires, life changing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-03-13 16:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13573971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilibra/pseuds/aprilibra
Summary: There's something about the charismatic Joseph Tate that Bree Swanson can't quite put her finger on."Sweet Breanna, we come from very different worlds, you and I. And when those worlds collide..." ~ Joseph Tate...Well, there's no saying what could happen.It's a chance meeting that changes both of their lives. Forever.______________________________________________________© BLACK (Emmerdale, Joseph Tate fanfic) (by: aprilibra)I wish I owned Joseph, but I don't.I own nothing other than my OFC, Bree Swanson._______________________________________________________





	1. 'club heart'

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=a476g1)

'Club Heart' was bathed in red and blue spotlights as the bass pulsed through Bree Swanson's body. She glanced around her favourite hunting ground and lifted the cocktail to her mouth, glossy red lips curling around the small straw and immediately felt someone watching her. Smirking, she repeated her action, making sure to emphasise her movements more seductively. She had always held a power over men, and was always impressed with how many she could attract. Bree was by no means easy, despite her flirtatious ways, most of the numbers she garnered were deleted from her mobile phone. She went to such lengths to get the full attention of her audience, but in the end she only received satisfaction from making a man absolutely intoxicated with her.

Her mind shifted back to the current male trying to get her attention. Looking over her shoulder, her long brown hair falling in a curve across one eye, she blatantly stared back at him. He was around her age, mid-twenties; which was interesting, because usually Bree was only attracted to older men. But this particular one captivated her almost immediately and for a moment she could only hold his gaze, equally as spellbound as he seemed to be with her. Although he was sitting she could see he was tall, long bodied. Toned. He was dressed in all black, but on him it was more than just a colour. There was an aura of dangerous energy around him that only further piqued her interest. Her gaze came down to rest briefly on his hips and the tight-fitting shirt tucked neatly into the waistband of expensive pants. Slowly, her gaze drifted upwards over his shoulders and chest, noticing the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. As she continued to stare he continued to observe her with an almost devilish glint in his eyes. It didn't seem to bother her that he had caught her checking him out. Besides, he and his perfect hair were probably used to all the attention. He was devastatingly handsome, boyishly charming, albeit he had a slight air of arrogance about him. He was important, and he knew it. Neatly groomed facial hair, strong jaw. Proud chin. But it was his eyes, blue, piercing, (she was a sucker for eyes) that really captivated her, hypnotizing her, and had her biting gently down on her lower lip.

Watching him Bree felt something she had never felt before - the inner desire to make him hers; and not just for one night.

The stranger's rakish smile came slowly and it almost dazzled her, and she held her breath, watching as he swung himself up out of his seat, mentally preparing herself for his arrival.

But it never came.

Confused, Bree twisted in her seat and spotted him entering the dance floor to move up behind a pretty blonde amongst the sea of gyrating bodies, and from what she could see he was wasting no time moving into her personal space.

 _Player_ , she thought bitterly to herself.

It was ironic she should feel this way, considering she used the exact same tactics he was currently using to drive men wild - but they had never been used upon her.

Thinking about it in an optimistic light, she smirked, realising she could use this to her advantage. She finished off her drink and rose to meet her challenger. It had been a long time since she had truly worked for her satisfaction, and wondered (hoped) more enjoyment would come from it tonight.

Stepping onto the dance floor, Bree glided through the hot, sweaty bodies until she brushed passed the object of her attention. It had been the briefest of touches, goading him the way a cat did a mouse; but she was spun round, a strong grip pulling her back. The sudden contact alarmed her and her eyes went to his. He seemed pleased that he had startled her. He was the cat once more. Then he pulled her into him, against his chest.

"I know what you're up to," he told her. She liked his voice. Polite, well-bred. His arms circled her, preventing an escape, his hands on the small of her back burned, sizzled, and sent a wave of heat skittering through her body. "I know your type."

"And what type is that?" she enquired. She told herself to breathe. She wasn't going anywhere for a while and began to move her hips, slowly, to the beat of the music. Her captor was silent for a moment; he seemed surprised, pleased even, and clearly aroused by her bold display of sexual confidence.

"You think you can get any man to fall for you, take you home and then discard them in the morning like a ruined pair of shoes."

She smiled. "But isn't that what men do?"

"You won't be able to throw me away quite so easily," he replied. His gaze dipped down at her body as it moved against his.

"I think you'll find you were watching me," she stated. He chuckled and it made her heart flutter. Although she had been interested she was reminded of her first impression; and the thought of being harmed was erasing most of the attraction she felt for him. He ducked his head, and immediately his citrus cologne hit her

"I never denied that I wasn't interested.

His breath whispered past her ear and she involuntarily shivered. She was on foreign ground now, and fought desperately to retain her control of the game.

"Well, then I should let you know I never take anyone back to my own home," she told him. He was pressing his hips against her and the friction between her dress and his touch was making her feel light-headed. "I think you mistook me for someone who would be interested in going anywhere with you."

He showered her with that same rakish smile from before, then hooked his index finger under her chin and lifted her head. Try as she might, she couldn't stop from gazing into his glittering blue eyes, filled with mirth and lust. "Do we need to leave?"

"I don't get intimate with anyone without knowing their name. Not that you have any chance of being intimate with me," she quickly added.

"A name? I could give you any name in the world right now and you wouldn't know whether it was the truth or not. So why does a name matter?"

He continued to smirk and, Bree decided she'd had enough of this game. Without another word she freed herself from his arms, leaving him on the floor, as she made her way towards the exit. Collecting her clutch and jacket on the way, she hurried out into the night, shivering as the cold air hit her warm skin. The encounter had left her feeling deeply unsettled. She knew eventually her pastime would catch her in a sticky situation, and she'd attract a potentially dangerous person. However, she hadn't realised just how uncomfortable she would feel in that position until now. What made it worse was that in spite of it all, she found she was still attracted to him. The thought alone made her quicken her pace and she rushed across the street without even looking.

Then everything happened too fast to make any sense in her head. She saw the bright flash of headlights, heard the loud screech of brakes and flung her arms up to instinctively shield herself. Then, feeling the impact, she grimaced as her back connected with a hard, cold surface. For a moment she stayed still, shivering, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps; until she realised she wasn't in any pain.

She slowly opened her eyes to see piercing blue staring down at her. His solid chest, heaving, as his arms barricaded her in on either side. She quickly realised she wasn't on the ground, but still standing, and not on the street, but against the wall of a building opposite the club. Along with the shock, adrenaline kicked in, and her eyes immediately went wide with fright and confusion.

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Bree?" he questioned her roughly. She could only blink at him, her throat feeling dry, as if it had closed up. Recognising the fear in her face, he softened his expression. "Are you hurt?" His eyes skimmed over her, checking for signs of injury. "No. No, I can tell you're not."

"H-how do you know my n-name?" she whispered hoarsely. But she didn't get her answer as another person stepped into the situation - the driver of the vehicle.

"You stupid bitch, how could you not see me? My truck's lit up like a bloody Christmas tree! If it wasn't for this guy coming out of nowhere, we'd be scraping what's left of you off the road right now!"

Her saviour turned his attention away from her and onto the ranting man. "Sir, if you would please calm down. No one was hurt and you can see that the lady's in shock."

Bree was in more than shock. Something else was beginning to take root, settle deep down, bone deep. She suddenly felt dizzy. Nauseous. Her body slipped, her hand grabbing a fistful of her saviour's expensive black shirt. He wrapped one arm around her, holding her up, supporting her trembling body.

"Calm down? Are you having a laugh? The stupid, drunken bitch just ran out in front of me! You need to put a leash on your girlfriend, mate!" the truck driver bellowed, and Bree felt the sting of hot tears of shame and embarrassment, trickle down her face onto her saviour's shirt.

"Okay, first of all, _Sir_ , I ask that you don't use derogatory remarks. Second, yes, she _is_ mine, and I can assure you that all she's had to drink tonight are fruit cocktails."

The truck driver snorted, blinking at him, taken aback by his calming, and oddly courteous nature. But there was something, far beyond the bloke's pinpoint gaze, that told him that if he _didn't_ calm down he might not continue to be quite so. He glanced at the girl who was still quietly crying and felt slightly embarrassed over his outburst. "Well," he said, adopting a softer tone. "No harm done, I s'pose. But do everyone a favour and keep a closer eye on her in future." 

Her saviour nodded once. "Consider it done," he said, throwing in another affable smile. The man turned and walked away, jumping back into his truck.

"Thank you," Bree mumbled through her tears.

"No need for thanks. Just promise me, you foolish girl, that you won't do that again." Her saviour framed her face between his hands, lifting her head to look into her wet eyes. They were blue, but certain ways the light caught them made them appear pale green; and for a moment they held him hostage. "Your life is much too precious and could have been so easily lost," he added.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered and he smiled.

"Come on. My car's just over here. Let's get you out of the cold, shall we?"

* * * * *


	2. 'curious heart'

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=j0bhir)

Bree didn't put up much of a fight (not that she was able) and allowed him to take her back to his home. Even when he helped her take off her shoes and guided her up a grand looking staircase inside a large and sumptuous bedroom, still no resistance came. He sat her on the edge of the Kingsize bed and as she sank into the mattress, she figured maybe she was still too stunned to consider the potential threat she had put on her life (again). But he had saved her, and because of it she now felt a little more secure in his company. 

"I'll get you a calming drink. Brandy should do the trick." He opened up a wardrobe and handed her a deep red shirt. She gave him an odd look. "Change out of your dress so you can sleep more comfortably," he added.

”Oh…” Bree began to shake her head. "No, I, I should really get home. I’ve already imposed on you more than enough."

He gave her a smile. "This isn't an inconvenience for me, Breanna."

Startled by the use of her full name, it reminded her that she still didn't know his. "I should, I should just leave." She attempted to get to her feet but a wave of nausea swept over her, making her a little wobbly. His hands settled gently upon her shoulders to steady her, and she looked him carefully in the eye. "I, I still don't know your name."

"Do you remember how difficult it was for you to stay awake in the car?"

In truth she couldn't even remember the car journey, just that he had sat with her in the back seat, arm around her, holding her. She must have fallen asleep or something because she had no recollection of who'd even been driving.

"Not to mention you're still in shock,” he continued. “I'm no doctor, but I don't think you should be left alone. It's no trouble for you to stay here tonight."

She quietly sighed, glancing briefly at the floor. She was tired. Exhausted even, and yes, still in shock. "Fine," she wearily agreed, and he was pleased that she was no longer fighting him.

"I'll get that brandy. Make yourself comfortable."

Bree nodded and stretched around to undo the zipper on her dress, but her arms felt heavy and useless, and she let out a frustrated sound. Her saviour moved back to her side, unzipping her dress and she glanced up at him, barely holding the front of her dress as it fell away from her frame. His eyes met hers, lingered, and she shivered as his fingers made contact with her bare skin, before he silently stepped away.

"Joseph Tate."

She blinked a few times to shake away the fog that had descended upon her. He was now over by the door, and she tilted her head to the side. "I'm sorry?"

"My name, you asked what it was. My name is Joseph Tate."

He left the room, and she allowed herself a smile, finally relaxed at learning his name. Using the remnants of her energy she slipped into the shirt that just met her mid thighs. Looking at the bed, she pulled back the blankets and climbed inside, sighing deeply at the immediate comfort they brought her. No sooner had she closed her eyes when he returned with a crystal glass in his hand.

"I'm so grateful to you. Although you really didn't have to do all of this," she told him as she accepted the drink he offered. He gave her a smile that reached his glittering blue eyes, and it somehow relaxed her even more.

"You need to drink this." He touched the base of the glass with his fingertip. "It'll help you sleep."

She took a couple of sips before glancing back at her saviour - Joseph as she now knew him. His handsome features seemed much softer here in the muted lighting of the bedroom than they had in the dark obscurity of the club. Which reminded her…She sucked in a breath. "You never said how you knew my name."

"You told me in the club," he assured her and she gave him a look.

"I didn't and you know it."

"Fair enough. But why does it matter really?"

"Because I'm trying to figure you out."

"Hmm, and what are you thinking right now?" he mused. Enjoying the entertaining distraction she had brought him tonight.

Nibbling at her lower lip, Bree pondered over some of her suggestions, _pervert, rapist, serial killer_. She vocalised none, yet his face grew into an even wider grin, following it up with a soft chuckle.

"What?" she asked. "I haven't said anything yet."

He pointed at the glass in her hand, reminding her to drink more. "I doubt anyone would believe what it is you're suggesting though."

"And yet you only seem to fuel my thoughts more in that direction," she replied, giving him a thoughtful look. She had to admit other than the aura of danger she had felt at the club, he _did_ appear to be perfectly normal. Whatever normal was. But she sensed he was different to other men. Couldn’t explain it. It was just a feeling she got.

"I'm not a superhero, Bree," he said, sounding amused.

"I wasn't thinking you were," she retorted, although she _had_ briefly imagined it.

"Not psychic, either."

"Yet you seem to be reading my mind so well."

Another chuckle. "Call it an inner intuition," he said.

She continued to scan his features with tired eyes. The overconfident smirk playing over his lips. The alluring glitter of those piercing blue eyes, and how they’d hypnotized her earlier. No man had ever gotten to her this quickly, or so easily. What made him so different? she wondered as she began to replay the events of earlier.

The flash of the headlights. The screech of brakes. The truck driver.

_If it wasn't for this guy coming out of nowhere, we'd be scraping what's left of you off the road right now._

The wall, and being propelled to safety at an alarming speed, _superhuman speed_ , and yet suffering no apparent injury.

_Vampire._

The word whispered through her mind and Joseph's features faltered, all the humour suddenly leaving his blue eyes.

"Now why would you think that?" he asked, and Bree tilted her head to the side as she contemplated her choice.

"You really _can_ read my mind," she said with a knowing smile. The realisation didn't frighten her, although it was probably down to the exhaustion she was feeling. She finished off the brandy and held the glass out to Joseph.

"You should sleep now," he told her, turning to leave the room.

"You are, aren't you?"

He froze in his steps, looking over his shoulder at her almost accusingly. "You've had a shock. Things will seem much clearer in the morning," came his reply.

"It's okay, Joseph. You can tell me. I'm not afraid," she told him.

_You should be_ , he thought darkly. But the fact that she wasn't disturbed him more than it should have. It was an unsettling feeling, alien almost; because no single thing had ever troubled the mighty Joseph Tate.

"Get some rest, Breanna," he advised. "We'll talk in the morning."

And then he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him.

* * * * *


	3. 'tentative heart'

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=limtz)

Bree wasn't certain what time it was when she opened her eyes the next morning but, as she stretched out her limbs, she knew she wasn't at home. There was a familiar citrus smell on the air, and add that to the unfamiliar bedroom, the masculine furnishings...

The events of the previous night rushed back in.

Remembering the club, the truck driver and Joseph saving her, she caught sight of the dress she'd been wearing draped over the back of the chair, her shoes and bag placed neatly on the floor to one side, and she quietly groaned.

_I outdid myself this time._

It was tempting to burrow back down beneath the covers and stay there forever, so she didn't have to face reality - but of course she couldn't do that. In truth, what she really wanted to do was make her escape, and forget last night had ever happened.

Pathetic.

"I'm a big girl," she told herself. "I can do this."

So instead of hurriedly dressing and acting out her previous thought, she threw back the covers and padded towards the bedroom door. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm buttered toast greeted her as she made her way down the grand staircase. She hadn't paid much attention to Joseph's home the night before (not surprising really given the state she had been in) but now she was able to appreciate how gorgeous the building was, it still retained a lot of its original features but Joseph had put his own modern, contemporary spin on it. Not to mention the place was huge. Surely he didn't live here all alone?

It wasn't until she reached the bottom step of the staircase that she heard the male voices coming from somewhere in the kitchen. One was Joseph, but the other voice she didn't recognise - it was low, controlled, and much older.

"You worry far too much, Graham," she heard Joseph say.

"Can you honestly blame me?" came the other man's reply. "We both know how this is going to end."

"I helped a damsel in distress. I would have thought you of all people would've considered that a commendable deed."

The other man sighed, giving Bree the impression he had heard it all before.

"If it were just about that, then yes, I would agree with you," the older man spoke. "But we both know there's more to it than that."

Joseph chuckled, and its familiar sound sent her heart fluttering.

"And there I was thinking you wanted me to be a better person," he replied with a touch of amusement.

The conversation intrigued her, but as she inched closer towards the kitchen entrance the stair creaked beneath her bare feet, and she immediately flinched knowing they must have heard her. It went quiet for a brief moment, and then the older man spoke.

"I think your house-guest is awake."

_Damn._

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she heard Joseph say with that same touch of amusement in his voice.

Taking a deep breath, knowing she would now have to show her face, she entered the kitchen and both men turned to look at the half naked woman in the doorway with the sleep tousled hair and eyes smudged with make up. She supposed she looked an absolute fright. Maybe she should have gotten dressed first.

Joseph was smiling as he leaned back against the worktop, cup of coffee in hand; while the older man, wearing a black three-piece suit, surveyed her like she were nothing more than an annoying inconvenience.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Joseph greeted her. "Hungry?"

"Uh, no. Thank you. Black coffee would be nice, though."

"Graham just made fresh." He nodded at the suited man who, with a repressed sigh, obligingly poured Bree a coffee and handed it to her. She accepted it, thanked him and Joseph pointed to the table behind her. "Please. Sit."

As she turned to do just that she felt even more self-conscious over her half naked state. The older man, Graham, continued to stare at her in that same impassive way, while Joseph couldn't hide the fact that he was enjoying the view. She frowned at him, giving the hem of the shirt a tug before sitting down to delicately cross her legs, and trying to retain some sort of dignity.

"How did you sleep?" Joseph asked once she was settled.

"Very well. Considering."

"Good." He moved towards the table, unbuttoned his jacket and joined her; while Graham continued to quietly assess the situation from behind the kitchen island, dark eyes wary, ever watchful.

"It was rather...odd, wasn't it?" Bree said lifting the cup to her lips. She took a sip of the strong, black liquid. It was delicious. Graham certainly knew how to make a good cup of coffee.

"What's that?" enquired Joseph.

"How we met."

"Ah." He nodded. "A fortuitous coincidence."

Bree tilted her head to the side. "You think so?"

Graham cleared his throat, interrupting the conversation, and they both looked at him. "Need I remind you that you have a meeting," he said to Joseph. "Ten o'clock sharp."

"That's fine," Joseph replied. "I have plenty time."

"In that case I'll leave you to it. If you need me I'll be in the office," he said in that same flat monotone voice.

"Thank you, Graham," Joseph gave him a nod and the man left but not before sliding Bree another look of cautious distrust.

"I don't think he likes me," she commented, as she watched him go. "And he's very strange."

"Graham's a good man. He's just overprotective."

"Father?"

"No."

"But he works for you?"

"Yes."

"As your...?"

Her words tapered off and Joseph couldn't contain his grin.

"Butler?" he offered.

"Is he?" She took another sip of coffee, watching him over the rim of the cup.

"He's a little more than that." She lifted a querying brow and so he gave her more. "Let's just say that he keeps things ticking over nicely."

"So he's your Personal Assistant?"

Joseph grinned, knowing exactly what Graham would think of that. "For arguments sake let's just call him that," he said. He wasn't certain why he should be enjoying the cross examination quite as much as he was. He usually wasn't so forthcoming when it came to divulging any kind of information about himself. He supposed that had more to do with trust than anything else. But he liked Bree and her probing seemed innocent enough.

"And he knows?" she asked carefully.

"Knows?" he queried.

"What you are."

Meeting her eyes Joseph wasn't in the least bit surprised when she didn't back down. If he knew anything about her it was only that she was fearless. Last night, bringing her here to his home and their conversation prior to falling asleep; he had thought (hoped) she might have forgotten all about it. He should have known better. It seemed she was as tenacious as she was fearless.

"Remind me again, Breanna, what exactly it is that you think I am," he asked.

There was only a very brief moment of silence.

"Vampire."

There. She had said it out loud. The word was suspended in the air between them, like a huge flashing neon sign.

"Hmm." Joseph rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Did we hit our head last night?" His tone was playful, teasing. But his voice told a very different story to his eyes. He was unnerved and he hoped it didn't show.

"I didn't," she replied, sounding sure of herself. "I feel fine."

"Still, maybe we should have you checked over just to be sure."

"Stop trying to distract me, Joseph."

He didn't bother denying it, because he had been. She leaned forward, arms on the table, unbending, unflinching. She held his gaze and he couldn't help but notice that this morning her eyes were more blue than green.

"You don't know me," she continued. "Because if you did then you would know that when I make my mind up about something, I can't be swayed. Not even by you."

"And you've made your mind up about me."

Her reply was a nonchalant shrug and Joseph silently mulled over his options. He had already established a somewhat odd connection with her, and she was far too intelligent to believe his lies. Not only that - and this was the kicker - he felt like he could trust her. Although if someone asked him why, he wouldn't be able to explain it. His earlier conversation with Graham about "being a better person" was replaying in his head.

Well, no time like the present. 

"Fair enough." He gave her a firm, brief nod. "Yes. Bree. I am a vampire."

She could only stare at him, she might have blinked once or twice, but other than that there was no indication to show the effect of his candour. However, his honesty did confuse her, mainly because she assumed he would try to wriggle his way out of even answering her questions at all.

Joseph Tate, the man who had saved her last night and brought her here, to his home, in the middle of nowhere, had just admitted he was a vampire.

But rather than flee the house barefoot and screaming, Bree settled back into her chair and took a calm sip of coffee. Which honestly didn't surprise Joseph at all. He wondered if this woman were afraid of anything.

"So...what happens now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, now you have me here. Is this the part where you kill me?"

There was the familiar chuckle. "This is the part where we just talk," he said. "Because if I wanted to kill you, I'd have done so last night."

"That was your plan when we met?"

"I think someone's been watching too much Twilight." She gave him a look telling him exactly what she thought of that, and it made him smile. "Being a vampire isn't like the movies, Bree. For one, do you see me sparkling?"

"Only your eyes."

He lifted a brow, pleased by her comment. He had just divulged his true identity to her and she was still blatantly flirting with him. This woman was a breath of fresh air. He rewarded her acceptance with a little more information.

"Killing humans isn't all that vampires are about," he told her. "Most don't even drink blood."

"Then how do you survive?"

He reached over to snag an apple from the fruit bowl, bounced it one in his palm and took a big bite. "I eat food. Just like you," he announced through a mouthful of the fruit. "I also drink." He pointed to his coffee. "I sleep and not in a coffin. And, no, before you ask I do not burn in the sun, unless of course I forget to put on sunscreen."

She smiled at his humour. "How old are you?"

"When people ask I tell them I'm twenty-four."

"Okay." She nodded. "So...you've never drank blood or you've chosen to abstain?"

"Every now and then I have the urge. But that's why I have Graham." She gave him an odd look that had him chuckling. "No. Breanna. I do not feed from my PA. Graham brings me supplies when I need them."

"Wait, you mean, he goes out and finds you women to snack on?"

"No, I can do that myself," he assured with the rakish smile that sent her pulse racing. It reminded her of the previous night. The blonde on the dance floor, and what his intentions might have been for the girl, had Bree not have intervened when she had.

"So when you say supplies...?" she pressed him.

"Let's just say that Graham has a trusted contact at a local hospital, and leave it at that."

Well, now she got it. He was talking about blood bags. It was a lot of information to take in, and Joseph could see she was absorbing it all. Her calm acceptance fascinated him. He had only ever revealed his true identity to a handful of humans and in each case it had ended very badly. For them. Which was why he vowed never to make that mistake again. So this, what was happening right now with Bree, this was a big deal. He wouldn't lie though, he was slightly unnerved by the whole thing. But that was mainly down to his curiosity over what made her so different, why he felt he could trust her and why he had opened up to her as quickly as he had. But he embraced the feeling and went with it. It was done now. Out there. No taking it back. He got up to refill both of their mugs and when he sat again she was still quiet.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"The truck. I should be dead right now."

"But you're not."

"Thanks to you." She paused. "So you didn't plan on meeting me?"

"How could I? Before last night I'd never seen you before in my life."

"But if I hadn't left the club and ran away from you...?"

He knew where she was going with it and it amused him. "Would I have snacked on you?" he said with a grin.

"Would you?"

"I told you, that's why I have Graham."

"So you're not tempted now?" She tilted her head off to the side, it was a habit with her he noticed, but that wasn't her intention. She was playing with him. The long line of her graceful neck was exposed and he could see her pulse working. His gaze lingered there a while, probably longer than it should have. But he was also trying to prove a point.

"I'm extremely tempted," he replied, deciding honesty was the best policy with her. He brought his gaze back to hers. "But I have impeccable self-control."

"Shame."

More blatant flirting. Another deep smile from him.

"May I ask another question?" she asked.

"You may."

"Do you make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress?"

"Ah." Joseph nodded. "So you _did_ hear that. I've helped many women who've found themselves in a precarious situation with an unsuitable suitor. But this...this is new territory for me."

As Bree flittered over the deeper meaning of his statement, he quietly gauged her reactions while she tried to work it all out. She knew there had been no need in getting him to admit that. Just like there had been no need for him to save her from 'death by truck'.

But he had.

"And...what is this?" she asked.

"I hope the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"And that's it? That's all you want?"

"Hmm."

As his eyes skimmed over her they darkened. The look was intense and thorough, making her feel even more naked, and sending slices of heat throughout her body. But he was still staring, and he had stared - and imagined enough - so she cleared her throat, bringing his gaze back up to meet her cool stare. He gave her that trademark rakish smile.

"Even if I wanted more, human vampire relationships are possible, but they're by no means easy."

"You said you can control yourself."

"I'm not sure I'd care to put it to the test."

"Meaning?"

"I'm easily bored, and when I grow bored I become frustrated. Which is why I tend to spend no more than a night or two with the same woman." She half smiled at that and he had to ask. "Something amusing?"

"You sound just like me, Joseph," she told him. "I'm beginning to think we're kindred spirits you and I."

She let her vision fill with the man, the vampire, who had saved her. He had done everything to keep her safe, including bringing her here to his home and giving her a bed for the night. She was beyond grateful. But there was more going on here, between them, and she shocked herself because she was eager to explore it. She reached across the table, touching her fingertips to his, and they both felt it, they both felt 'some' thing. It was such a strong feeling that Joseph swore he felt himself stumble.

"Bree - "

"Don't pull away."

He didn't, he couldn't; and the feeling alone unnerved him. He was the predominant one here. But right now he felt as powerless as a kitten. Maybe Graham had been right.

_But we both know there's more to it than that._

"I want you to know how grateful I am to you," she told him.

"You don't have to be - "

"But I am. I also want to thank you for your honesty. I've grown so accustomed to people lying to me. You could have lied to protect yourself, but you didn't; and that means a lot to me."

He was insanely curious about those people and he wanted to ask, but he didn't. There was a time and place for everything.

"You can trust me, Joseph," she continued. "After everything you did for me last night, the least I can do is keep your secret."

He was in awe of her.

It wasn't just her fearless nature, or the (oddly attractive) stubborn attitude, not even the bold confidence that had enticed him last night at the club. It wasn't even that she was beautiful and quite possibly the single most exciting woman he had met in a very long time.

What it was, was the mutual trust they had in each other.

It could have ended badly, like all the other times. She could have threatened to expose him, and left him with the terrible realization of what he would have to do to protect him and his identity. The thought of which unsettled him deeply.Joseph had learned the hard way never to divulge his true identity to anyone, let alone someone he'd known less than twenty-four hours; and clearly Bree had trust issues of her own. So this...this was indeed a very big thing for the both of them.

He took hold of her wrist, lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss against her skin, feeling her pulse pick up speed. When his gaze lowered to her mouth, he heard the breath catch in her throat and knew she wanted him to kiss her. But he wouldn't.

 _Not yet_ , he told himself.

Even though it was what they both wanted, Joseph knew - even if she didn't - that she needed a little more time to process everything that had happened and been revealed.

 _He's giving me time_ , she thought to herself.

He smiled, giving her the impression that he knew exactly what she was thinking. It reminded her of the conversation in his bedroom last night. Her gaze ticked to the clock above the stove. Almost nine-thirty.

"Well...you've been more than kind, Joseph, but you have a meeting and I should probably think about leaving," she said. She finished off her coffee.

"Of course. Graham will drive you home."

"What exactly is it that you do by the way?"

Joseph smiled. She was such a curious little thing. "Another time."

"I'll hold you to that, Mr. Tate."

"I have no doubt you will, Miss. Swanson."

The use of her last name made her narrow her eyes at him, but there was no hostility there and the scowl only made her look impossibly cute; and so it made Joseph chuckle.

"Because we still have to discuss how it is that you know my name," she said.

"Does it really matter?"

Bree let go of a sigh. She supposed it didn't. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. It didn't make her less curious, though. Maybe it was just a vampire thing.

"Here." Joseph dipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card. "Take this."

Bree accepted the card with the sleek and sophisticated dark blue embossment. The title read 'Waterhouse International' and underneath was Joseph's name, complete with a number and email address. "You're giving me your business card," she said, lifting a brow.

"With my contact number," Joseph added. "Should you ever find yourself in distress and need of rescuing."

She lifted her eyes and there was the rakish smile she was growing fond of. "The wit on you," she said.

"There is, of course, a much simpler solution."

"Which is?"

"Look both ways before crossing the road," he told her.

"Yes, but where would be the fun in that?" she replied with a grin and it made Joseph chuckle.

"Oh, Breanna," he added with a sigh. "I have a feeling you're going to get me into a lot of trouble."

"Then may I suggest you hold on tight," she replied. "Because it could get bumpy."

He met her eyes, now more green than blue, and when she gave him a slow smile Joseph felt the need to draw a breath. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this attracted to a woman, on both a mental and a physical level. It was exciting to be enticed and tempted this way. Usually the women he slept with were as eager to take him to bed as he was eager to reach the finish line. He'd forget about them the next day and move onto the next.

But not this time. Not this one.

This one wanted him, there was no doubt about that; but there was more. There was a yearning to get to know him on a much deeper level. She had already looked past his true identity, shown no fear or repulsion; and now she wanted to explore the man behind the mask. It fascinated him, and it added to his fascination that he was just as fascinated by her. That he wasn't rushing to reach the finish line. Nor did he even want to.

It was insane, considering he hadn't even kissed her.

Yet.

Where all of it was leading, he really didn't know. But it was leading somewhere. Of that much he was certain.

* * * * *


End file.
